Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 182: No one at Home.

North Docks

The street was quiet.

Thin young boys and girls walked slowly along the broken road. Their clothes were old, worn, and patched in several places.

Many of them were barefoot.

Beside the road stood rows of old, worn-out buildings. Most of them were cracked from years of neglect.

Some had already crumbled halfway, their walls leaning dangerously as if they might collapse at any moment.

Yet, despite their condition, people still lived inside them.

North Docks was the lowest district in the city, the place where the poorest commoners struggled to survive.

Since the appearance of the Abyss decades ago, the world had changed completely and never returned to what it once was..

The air reeked of rotting sewage mixed with the sour smell of garbage. Wastewater ran slowly along the roadside gutters, forming small puddles that attracted flies and insects.

Yet the people who lived here had long grown used to it.

For them, survival was more important than comfort.

Suddenly, the loud rumbling of engines echoed through the street.

A military convoy appeared on the pothole-filled road, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

One after another, the residents of North Docks raised their heads in shock, staring at the armored vehicles approaching their district.

Their expressions were filled with confusion and suspicion.

"What is going on?" someone whispered.

"Are they finally going to destroy this place?" another person asked nervously.

Many people were pessimistic.

Years of oppression and neglect had long destroyed their trust in both people and the government.

To them, the government was nothing but a group of powerful oppressors who only cared about the wealthy districts.

However, to their surprise, the convoy slowed down.

Then it stopped.

Not at the center of the district.

But in front of a modest house.

The house looked ordinary. Its paint had faded from years of exposure to the sun and rain.

Some of the windows were cracked, and the roof tiles looked old.

Still, compared to the surrounding houses, it was in far better condition.

The military vehicles came to a complete stop.

Soldiers quickly stepped out of the vehicles, their movements disciplined and precise. Each of them stood on guard with rifles firmly gripped in their hands.

Their vigilant posture immediately made the residents uneasy.

From the center jeep, a tall young man stepped out.

His silver hair swayed slightly in the wind as his calm eyes scanned the familiar surroundings.

For a moment, he simply stood there, looking at the house in front of him.

A slow smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

This place...

This was his home.

With steady steps, Thoren walked toward the house.

His heart was filled with anticipation.

He could already imagine the shocked expressions on his parents’ faces when they saw him return.

Before leaving, he had promised them something.

He promised that he would clear their debts.

He promised that he would take them away from this slum.

And now...

He had finally returned to fulfill that promise.

With a hopeful heart, Thoren walked up to the front door and tried to push it open.

But suddenly, he frowned.

The door didn’t move.

It was locked.

"Hm?"

A trace of confusion appeared in his eyes.

’What’s going on?’ he thought.

At this time of day, his little sister should have been home. Even his mother should have already returned from work.

Yet the house was completely silent.

Without hesitation, Thoren walked toward a small vase near the entrance.

He lifted it carefully.

Normally, the spare key would be hidden underneath it.

But this time...there was nothing.

His expression immediately turned serious.

Something was wrong. His parents were not home.

His sister was not home.

And the spare key was missing. This had never happened before.

Thoren slowly looked around the front yard.

Then his eyes narrowed. There were marks on the ground.

Clear signs of a struggle.

Claw marks.

Broken glass.

A shattered window.

The signs were obvious.

A fight had taken place here.

A cold light flashed across Thoren’s eyes.

While he was trying to understand what had happened, a small crowd had already gathered nearby.

The residents whispered among themselves as they stared at him.

"Isn’t that the sick kid?"

"Yes... that’s him."

"I thought he entered the Abyss."

"That’s right... so why is he here?"

"And why are soldiers protecting him?"

Rumors and gossip quickly spread among the crowd as everyone tried to understand the situation.

Just then, one of the soldiers approached Thoren respectfully.

"Sir, do you need any assistance?" the soldier asked.

Thoren was about to speak when a familiar voice shouted from the crowd.

"Thoren! You’re back?!"

Thoren turned his head.

A thin, frail girl pushed her way through the crowd.

He immediately recognized her.

She was one of his little sister’s friends.

"Where is Elara?" Thoren asked coldly. "And where are my parents?"

The girl trembled slightly under his gaze.

"I—I don’t know where your parents are," she said nervously. "But I know your sister is working at the Karen Spicy Restaurant."

Thoren froze.

Working?

Why was his sister working?

She should be in school.

She should be preparing to awaken her profession.

A dangerous silence filled the air.

Without saying another word, Thoren turned around and walked back toward the jeep.

The soldiers didn’t need instructions.

They immediately returned to their vehicles.

The convoy engines roared to life.

Moments later, the vehicles sped away from North Docks.

The crowd slowly dispersed, each person carrying a different version of the story that would soon spread across the entire district.

...

..

Inside a busy restaurant, a thin girl stood beside a large basin filled with dirty plates.

Her hands moved quickly as she washed them one after another.

Her body looked fragile, almost as if a strong wind could knock her over.

Her clothes were wet from the dirty water, and her pale face showed clear signs of exhaustion.

Her once bright eyes were now hollow and tired.

Hidden sadness filled them.

She shook her head repeatedly as if trying to convince herself of something.

In front of her stood a towering pile of dirty plates.

And with every passing minute, more plates were added.

It was a never-ending cycle.

Suddenly, the loud sound of engines echoed outside.

A military convoy stopped in front of the restaurant.

Before the soldiers could even step out, Thoren had already exited the jeep.

His expression was cold.

Without hesitation, he pushed the restaurant door open and walked inside.

The noisy restaurant suddenly fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.

"I’m looking for my sister," Thoren said coldly.

"Elara."

The atmosphere instantly turned tense.

A young waiter frowned and stepped forward.

"Hey, kid," he said sharply. "Don’t you know this is a restaurant? You can’t just come in here shouting like that—"

Bang!

"Aaaah!"

Before the man could finish speaking, a terrifying slap struck his face.

The impact sent him flying out of the restaurant entrance.

He crashed onto the street outside.

No one inside knew whether he was dead or alive.

The restaurant instantly became silent like a graveyard.

Fear spread across everyone’s faces.

At that moment, a middle-aged woman rushed out from the back room.

She was the restaurant manager.

The moment she saw the soldiers outside and the terrifying aura surrounding Thoren, she instantly realized that this young man was someone she could not afford to offend.

Her attitude immediately became respectful.

"Sir," she said nervously, bowing slightly. "Your sister is in the back. I’ve already sent someone to call her."

Thoren did not respond.

He simply stared at her.

His gaze was cold and piercing.

It was as if his eyes were saying one thing clearly:

If anything happened to her... you’re dead.

The manager felt a chill run down her spine.

Her shoulders trembled under his gaze.

Then, a soft voice came from the back.

"B-Brother..."